Poetry

The callous hands of clock towers
Age the ignominy that has become
The very face known as American society

6 billion pricks occupy every anus
Engraved within this universe
And the one prick who appeared distinctive
Behaved like that of an equal associate


What are such clocks good for
Minus aiding the counting of fiendish nightmares
Foolishly published by such an inviting succubus?
I rue when I had first acknowledged her existence